


Not Today, But Someday

by TheCockyUndead



Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Gen, Gun Violence, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCockyUndead/pseuds/TheCockyUndead
Summary: Baby knew he’d fucked up.That much had been clear from the moment Doc had stepped out of the gloom of the warehouse, giving him a long look with his hands in his jacket pockets. Doc’s face was expressionless, but even that was more than enough information for Baby to know that the man was pissed.Baby hadn’t even know Doc for that long, but even he could see that someone was about to die. Dramatic? Maybe. Untrue? Definitely not.





	Not Today, But Someday

Baby knew he’d fucked up.

That much had been clear from the moment Doc had stepped out of the gloom of the warehouse, giving him a long look with his hands in his jacket pockets. Doc’s face was expressionless, but even that was more than enough information for Baby to know that the man was pissed.

Baby hadn’t even know Doc for that long, but even he could see that someone was about to die. Dramatic? Maybe. Untrue? Definitely not. 

“So,” Doc said, his voice low and even. He looked down at Baby, his glasses glinting slightly in the low lighting.

“Baby fucked up,” Ford’s voice rang out from the chair next to Baby. He shot Baby a glare, his expression very clear; he was willing to throw Baby under the bus to save his own skin. His mouth opened, ready to keep talking, but without even looking at him, Doc held up a hand, stopping Ford from continuing.

“I didn’t ask you, Ford.”

Ford’s mouth snapped shut and he swallowed roughly.

Doc held Baby’s eyes through Baby’s sunglasses. His head cocked to the side.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“Take those fucking sunglasses off, please.”

“Okay,” Baby said, hand snaking up to pull off his sunglasses. He pocketed them where they settled in with his other two pairs of sunglasses in his pocket.  

“Now,” Doc said, settling against the rough table behind him. “Give it to me from the beginning.”

.

.

.

Things were going fine until they weren’t.

Baby had never failed a job, and he doubted he ever would, but that didn’t necessarily mean that things didn’t go wrong occasionally, and generally when they went wrong—they went completely _fucking_ sideways.

Buddy, Darling, and Ford were inside the bank doing what they did best, while Baby did what he did: Wait until they came running out with their bags of money and their smoking guns, yelling at him to go, go, go, Baby.

The waiting wasn’t so bad with the perfect track playing through his white earbuds with his iPod tucked safely away in his black and white jacket.

But the waiting wasn’t what went wrong. It was the part that came after.

The double glass doors burst open, Buddy and Darling leading the way, practically arm in arm as they ran forward towards the waiting car. Baby couldn’t see their faces behind the black skeleton masks that covered half their faces, but he imagined their mouths were pulled tight into identical grins of adrenaline.   

Behind them, Ford was following, but was doing a funny sort of hop with one leg half dragging behind him.

Even through the tint of his sunglasses, Baby could see the dark stain spreading through his lower pant leg.

“Baby,” Darling said, jerking open the car door and throwing herself into the backseat, followed closely by Buddy. “Go, Baby, go!”

Baby’s foot hovered over the gas, but he didn’t go; Ford wasn’t in the car, wasn’t even close yet.

“Leave him, Baby,” Buddy snarled into Baby’s ear, hands gripping Baby’s headrest.

Baby ignored him, focusing on Bad Company playing in his ear and Ford’s slow progress to the waiting car.

Darling’s hands suddenly pulled at Baby’s shoulder, and she shouted something at him, but she was again ignored.

The music pounded in Baby’s ears, in sync with the beating of his heart. He watched Ford for another beat and then his hand was on the handle and he was shoving open the door, ignoring, once again, the yells from Darling and Buddy behind him.

Moments later, he was at Ford’s side and without a word, slung Ford’s arm over his shoulder.

Ford gave him a sidelong look, sweat beading on his face. His teeth were bared into a grimace, and his breath was huffing through his clenched teeth.

Baby winced back in sympathy, trying to ignore the fact that Ford’s mask was off, something that Doc wasn’t going to like at all, but that was the least of their concerns right now.

Behind them, the bank’s alarm was wailing, calling all available police officers to them, and it wasn’t until a bullet whizzed over Baby and Ford’s head that Baby realized the overweight security officer from the bank had come outside, deciding to play the hero and take down the escaping bank robbers.

Baby threw a look over his shoulder, eyes widening behind his sunglasses when he didn’t see the overweight officer from Doc’s plan, but another, bigger guard, gripping a black 9mm in both hands.

The guard’s aim twitched towards Baby, his mouth curled into a thin lipped snarl under a thick moustache.

“We gotta go,” Baby said, surprising even himself with the obvious words.

“Yeah, no shit,” Ford gritted out, hanging heavily on Baby. “Go faster, kid.”

Baby shot him an indignant look that Ford didn’t even see because he was too busy on trying to get to the car.

.

.

.

“You called the kid slow?” Buddy demanded, breaking into Baby’s story. He was sitting next to Darling on Baby’s other side, but was leaning across Baby to give Ford a long look. “Seriously?”

“Shut the fuck up, Buddy,” Ford snapped.

“Both of you shut up,” Doc said mildly. “Please continue, Baby.”

.

.

.

The next second a bullet ripped through Baby’s shoulder, but then they were at the car and Baby was shoving Ford into the backseat with Buddy and Darling. He snapped the door shut over the protests from the other two already in the car; it wasn’t his concern that it was crammed back there. His concern was getting them out of there alive.

The burning in Baby’s shoulder hurt, but it wasn’t actually that bad. Baby had always imagined getting shot would hurt a whole lot more than it did.

So he ignored it, like he ignored so many other things, and slid into the driver’s seat. With his right hand, he threw the car into gear and then stomped down on the gas.

Even with the pain in his shoulder and the fact that the cops were right around the corner, and the wannabe hero with the gun still shooting at them, Baby couldn’t keep the slight grin from splaying across his lips. 

Because here’s the thing, Baby liked being a criminal some days. The thrill of the chase, the knowledge that if he made one wrong turn he would end up with cuffs around his wrists. It was a feeling of power that wasn’t something Baby could replicate anywhere but in the car. He craved it like air, sucking in lungful after lungful.

The car jerked forward, knocking all of them back into their seats.

Baby whistled out a breath of air, mouth thinning as his wound was jostled against the leather of the seat.

He was going to get blood all over the thing. Mentally adding that to the list of shit going wrong, Baby knew they were going to have to lose the car, but they couldn’t just abandon it with his and Ford's blood all over it. It would have to be burned, which, again was going to be a bitch because that was going to draw a whole lot of attention to them. 

His grip tightened on the wheel and his teeth clicked together as he glared out the windshield at the road whizzing by them. 

The others in the back knew better than to talk to him while he was driving, but Baby could feel waves of concern coming from the backseat. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was hurt and might not be able to do his job and get them out of there or if it was because he was hurt and they were worried about him.

Either way it was a distraction.

Fox on the Run by Sweet started play through his earbuds, immediately blocking out whatever the others in the back were thinking but not saying.

Baby’s arms straightened and he coaxed more speed out of the little car.

The cops weren’t on their tail yet (Baby had easily lost them before they had even rounded the corner at the bank), but they would be; they needed to ditch the car now when they had the chance to make it go boom.

Baby twisted the wheel and skidded into a mostly empty parking lot, four blocks from the bank. He jammed down on the brakes, shoving open the door before it was even stopped. The others were a beat behind him, spilling out of the car with their arms full. 

“What the hell are we doing, Baby?” Buddy demanded, hands gripping the bank bag in one hand while his other hovered near his waistband where his gun was tucked.

“Switching cars,” Baby said shortly. He nodded at Ford’s leg and then at his own shoulder. “DNA. Get rid of it.” 

Baby took off towards where he had already picked one of the parked cars to steal. He had the car open in twenty seconds, spending the whole time wondering if he was being overdramatic with making the decision to blow the car up.

Probably.

But it was too late now.

The song in his iPod had changed a little while ago, the beat of the new song's high tempo keeping in time with his pounding heart.

Baby took a moment to shrug off his black and white jacket, easily transferring his iPod into his jean pocket, while he wound his jacket around his sluggishly bleeding shoulder. It would have to do for now. Baby didn’t think it was bleeding enough to soak through his thick jacket, which was good because they couldn't ditch another car. 

He glanced over to where Buddy, Darling, and Ford were running towards him.

Ford had managed to get his leg bandaged too, which was a good sign.

Baby’s eyes flicked over the others in time to see the flames inside the old car sputter and then flare to life. It was roaring in seconds. He felt like it was a little bit of a letdown; he wanted to see it explode.

“Get in,” Baby said unnecessarily as the other piled into the new car.

That was when the gas tank caught and the car exploded, making Baby's heart thrum as he stared at the sky high flames in awe before remembering the job at hand. He folded himself into the new car and moments later they were speeding by the smoking car and out of the parking lot. 

Baby had made the right choice with the new car; it handled well and could take the speed that Baby was forcing out of it. Best of all, it was boring. Grey and little, not something that bank robbers would choose to drive.

So, despite making the first car go boom, the cops hadn’t seen the switch they had made, and no one was following them.

Baby was still driving like he had the devil on his heels, but that was normal.

In the backseat, Ford and Darling were silent, staring straight ahead as they tried to move with the motion of the swerving car.

Buddy had taken the front seat for his own, and Baby could feel his eyes on him, boring holes into him.

Next track: Long Train Runnin’ by the Doobie Brothers.

Baby’s head bobbed up and down to the song, and he slowed the car; they were nearing the parking garage.

The car squealed to a stop inside the dark garage. They all shoved their way out of the car and then piled into the second waiting car Doc had for them.

Buddy took the driver seat before Baby could even make a move for it; it wasn’t part of the plan, but Baby decided that he was okay with it.

His shoulder was hurting a lot now.

Baby settled into the passenger side seat, letting his eyes slide closed behind his shades. He pressed one hand to his throbbing shoulder, wincing at the pressure.

Getting shot wasn’t as badass as the movies made it seem. Honestly, it really just hurt and made him feel a little sick.

“You with me, Baby?” Buddy asked.

Baby’s eyes opened and he realized they were moving. He looked over to Buddy, giving the other man a nod.

Buddy tried to hold his eye, but Baby turned his head and looked out his window, finally allowing himself a moment to think about what Doc was going to do to them for messing up his plan.

.

.

.

“So,” Doc said, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fold them over his chest, “you got shot and blew up a car.”

Well, when he put it like that, Baby supposed he could’ve cut down on the story quite a bit. It wasn’t like the others expected him to say much anyway.

He shrugged at Doc, nodding. His fingers tapped a beat against his thigh.

New song: Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum.

Baby supposed that if he was going to die, this song wasn’t the worst one to have playing when it happened.

His chin tipped up and locked his eyes onto Doc’s.

“Like I said,” Ford said from Baby’s side. “Baby fucked it up.”

Doc’s eyes flickered from Baby’s to Ford.

Ford leaned back against his chair, and from the corner of his eye, Baby could see Ford’s throat bob as he swallowed.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Doc said, pushing away from the table. He strode forward, holding a hand out to Baby.

Baby eyed the waiting hand and then carefully grasped it, pulling himself up. He tried to hide the wince as his shoulder gave a throb of pain, but he knew Doc saw it; Doc saw most things.

“Darling, you’re going to take Baby to my man on Third Street to see about his shoulder. When that’s done, Darling, come on back. Baby, you can pick us up some coffee from that place you like.”

Baby blinked, frowning slightly. That couldn’t be it? Doc didn’t just let things go when his plan went wrong.

Doc gave him a small smile as if he could read Baby's thoughts. “Go on, don’t want you bleeding out now do we?”

.

.

.

Darling didn’t speak when she took Baby to the small hole in the wall doctor’s office.

She didn’t say anything while the doctor stitched Baby up or when they walked down the street.

She didn’t even say anything when Baby began to bop up and down next to her, unable to ignore the call of his music anymore.

It wasn’t until they had stopped in front of the small coffee place that she gave Baby a once over before pulling him in for a tight and quick hug that made his numb shoulder protest a little.

She pulled away and said, “Don’t get shot again, okay, Baby?”

“Okay.”

She started backing away, giving him a wave as she sauntered away in her big white jacket. “Don’t forget to come back with the coffee, Baby.”

Baby’s hand went down to his jean pocket. He pulled out his white iPod, thumb zooming through different songs, until he found the right one. With his head and shoulders pulsing in time with the music, Baby went inside to order the coffee.

Minutes later, with the four coffees in hand, Baby had to admit he was feeling pretty good. Sure, he had gotten shot, but still managed to get the crew safely back to Doc. Plus, he got to see a car blow up, which is something that Baby had always thought would be cool to see.

The way back to Doc’s didn’t seem very long, and Baby was humming under his breath as he danced his way back to the room.   

He stopped abruptly, hands tightening around the cardboard cup holder.

“Shit, sorry, Baby,” Buddy said, straightening. His hands were flecked with blood, but that wasn’t what Baby was staring at.

At Buddy’s feet was Ford. A small round hole was punched in the center of his head and his eyes were wide and empty. His arms were splayed around his body, looking like he had flopped onto the ground like a doll. Blood was splattered around his head, but it was smeared like someone was trying to clean it up. 

Baby's eyes flipped up to Buddy, accusing him without words. Buddy held up his hands in defense, frowning slightly. 

Darling suddenly appeared at Baby’s side, plucking the coffee from his boneless fingers. She blocked his view of Buddy and the body, her head dancing every time Baby shifted to look at Ford.

“Sorry, Baby,” Darling said. “You weren’t supposed to see.”

His eyes flicked back to Darling’s dark ones. Sympathy shone in them, but no regret for what had been done to Ford. 

Baby swallowed and blinked. And just like that, being a criminal wasn’t so fun anymore.

Baby knew that Doc and the others did bad things and people got hurt. He knew that some of the jobs they ran ended with innocents losing some blood, but he also knew that none of them had died. This was different. They had killed Ford because he had made a mistake. 

The thing was, Baby had known the minute they had stepped into the room that Doc was going to kill someone; he had known it was going to happen, but when Doc let him go, he figured that the worst had passed. Clearly not. 

Bile rose in Baby’s throat in a quick second when he realized that he could have just as easily been in Ford’s place, but for whatever reason Doc had decided he was worth keeping around.

“Where’s Doc?” Baby asked, sounding calmer than he was.

Darling jerked her head towards the back room.

Baby followed her eyes and then sidestepped her, resolutely ignoring the dead body on the floor.

"Baby, no." Darling’s fingers clutched at Baby’s t-shirt, but he easily slipped out of her grasp.

Even with the music playing in his ears, the buzzing in Baby’s ears grew. He knew that he was in shock and that wasn’t helping his tinnitus. 

He entered the back room without knocking, and Doc looked up from a mess of papers scattered on his work station.

The questioning look on Doc’s face disappeared in seconds in exchange for annoyance.

“I told them to get it cleaned up before you got back.”

Baby frowned; that didn’t seem like a very good excuse for what had happened to Ford.

“I have two rules when dealing with you, Baby,” Doc continued, moving around the table to stand next to him. “First, I listen when you talk because unlike a lot of people I deal with, you don’t just talk shit. When you speak, it’s because you have something to say.” He paused, reaching forward to pluck one of Baby’s earbuds out. “And second, we don’t kill anyone in front of you. I know you’re a good kid. You’re young too. You don’t need that.” He jerked his chin the way Baby came. “So for what you just saw, Baby, I’m sorry.”

Baby didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? Thanks, Doc, I’m glad you were looking out for me, but you sorta fucked it up?

But he didn’t need to say it because Doc clearly saw it all over his face.

Doc shook his head, reaching forward and gripping Baby’s shoulders.

“Take a breath, kid, you’re going to be fine. Hell, better than fine. Not only did you get shot, but you managed to save the money and our crew while you bled. I’m proud of you, Baby.” A smile grin played along Doc’s lips. “I know you owe me a debt, but I never expected you to bleed for it.”

Doc let go of Baby’s shoulders. He reached down and pulled Baby’s hand up, placing a wad of bills into it. “Go home, kid, take a beat. I’ll call you when I need you.”

Baby mutely nodded.

.

.

.

Next track: Spectacular Revival by George Ezra. It was a little newer than Baby normally liked, but it fit his mood.

Joe was waiting for him when Baby padded into the apartment. He took one look at Baby’s face and motioned him close with a wave of his hand.

Baby shook his head at Joe. He circled around Joe’s wheelchair, going to his room to peel off his shirt and change into sweatpants. He pulled on a soft sweatshirt while he waited for the song to finish.

Next track: The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron. Another new one.  

Baby took a breath and then opened his door.

Joe was waiting for him outside Baby’s door, arms crossed over his chest.

_Move, please._

Joe shook his head.

_Please?_

Joe didn’t bother answering.

They stared at each. And, after a long beat, Baby swallowed and dropped to his knees. A cry escaped his throat, half choked as Baby attempted to muffle it. Both hands went up to his mouth as he tried to hold back the sobs.

His head bowed and he squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking down his cheeks.

Joe’s soft hands tangled themselves into Baby’s hair before sliding down to Baby’s cheeks. He pulled Baby’s chin up, locking him in place with his hands.

Even without the use of his hands to sign to Baby, Joe was able to convey his meaning: No matter what happened, Joe would always have his back; he would always be there for him.    

Baby nodded, silent tears still streaming down his cheeks.

Joe’s eyes were pinned to Baby’s, but he let go of Baby a second later.

Baby didn’t move, and the two stayed like that for a long minute. Joe in his wheelchair, and Baby kneeing, hunched, in front of him.  

Joe nodded after a moment and then signed, _Dinner?_ wheeling his chair backwards.

Baby nodded, hand scrubbing at his face. He stood up, swallowed, and then followed Joe into the kitchen.

He wasn’t okay, and he wouldn’t be until he was done with Doc and that life, but he knew that with Joe, he was _going_ to be okay someday.

No one knew him like Joe did, and no one saw the best in him like Joe did. Coming home to his foster father reminded Baby that he was more than just a criminal. He could rise above his circumstances and become something better than what life had dealt him.

Baby knew that he could be better than what Doc wanted from him.

One day.

Not today, but soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so I love this movie so much. Basically as soon as I finished it, I wanted to write a fic for it, but three attempts later and this is all I could come up with. I feel like it's not what I wanted to do at all, but as soon as I started writing I realized that writing Baby was so much more difficult than I thought it would be.   
> I also really wanted to touch on Baby's relationship with Joe and Doc because they both are sort of father figures to Baby (especially Joe) and that really interested me (because those two men are obviously so different), but that didn't really turn out as I wanted and my fic isn't so much about their fatherly influences on Baby as much as a pre-movie story about a job that goes wrong.   
> Anyway, let me know what you thought.


End file.
